“Methinks, master, that the leper that died here, leaving no legacy but the sign of his death, did some good in unknowingly making me his heir.”
“And the corpse I disposed of so unceremoniously left me a house of safety, though small and musty. I’ve a bitter thought.”
“So, Sir Charleroy, tell it me, perhaps I can sweeten it.”
“I, the heir for a little time of that soulless clay, am like it.”
“Not much being here and alive.”
“I rather think like it. See me tossed about by strangers, robbed of my rights, helpless to resist fate’s tides, begrudged the room I occupy, and not one who once knew me to weep over my besetments.”
“Sir Knight, the miracles of our frequent preservation should make our murmurings dumb.”
In the evening Jordan ebbed a little and the two wanderers passed over. Nor did they regret the consequent immersing in its flood. No word was spoken as they passed through the current, for, before they entered, having remembered that at this Bethabara ford man’s Savior was baptized, they were each busy with his own meditations. When they stood on the other shore, Sir Charleroy reverently said: “Comrade, I prayed as we passed that we might have the dove of peace henceforth above our souls at least.”
“I prayed on my part that God would accept the act as the Christian’s typical burial to the world and separation from its sins.”